It is summer, heading into peak vacation time. For my family, as long as I can remember, that involves reading. Our first stop every year before heading to the cottage was the bookstore. Books and vacations went hand in hand.

I am often asked why people, especially younger ones, don't read the newspaper as much anymore. They expect the villain is the Internet. For me, it's the loss of what I call the "reading culture."

A "reading culture" starts for most of us early. When my family moved to Stoney Creek and I changed schools from St. Eugene's to St. Francis Xavier for my final two years of elementary school, I discovered the Stoney Creek library. Books became my best friend. I read an entire shelf of books that ran the length of the building in that library.

The reading culture also means being surrounded by books, newspapers and magazines. It means reading everything -- signs, notes, menus, posters. Everything.

It is why I so love England. It is a country immersed in reading. A literate culture where even the signs and the "tube" (subway) ads are smart and interesting. (It is also a country with something like 15 national newspapers.)

Reading is not, as you might think, necessarily about demographics, economic standing or cultural background. Reading transcends all this and more. It is about a way of living and life itself.

As Annie Dillard notes in her book, The Writing Life, it takes anywhere from two to 10 years to write a book. She points out there are more than five billion people on the planet yet, in any given year, only about 20 of them can write a serious book. "Who would call a day spent reading a good day?" she asks. "But a life spent reading? That is a good life."

When I switched jobs about a year and half ago, the newspapers paid for by my former employer stopped coming to our door. Almost immediately, my two daughters asked me, independently of each other: "Aren't we going to get the newspaper anymore?" It was back in the house in a week because reading it is another one of our family's habits.

Now a confession. I am guilty of a terrible sin. I write in my books. Yes, I write notes, comments and generally scar all my books with pencil marks. I underline passages and star certain paragraphs. It is a disgusting habit.

I used to travel a bit and would spend the entire flight reading and listening to music. In all my travels, I only once met another person with my dreaded habit. All the rest of the time, people on planes would give me weird looks.

Then I met my travel soulmate. Another person who underlines and writes in her books. We both took one look at the other and knew we shared a special secret.

I write in my books, really one of my two or three vices, because I love them so much. I return to them regularly. It is not unusual for me to reread the books several times, enjoying the phrasing, remembering the facts and discovering the value of them all over again. And besides, as I say often, they are my books.

Enjoy some summer reading.

David Estok is the Spectator's editor-in-chief. editorfeedback@thespec.com